


open up to me

by notquiteaghost



Series: yogs harry potter au [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why didn't you tell me Will was so cool!"</p><p>Smith blearily raises his head and blinks. "Go 'way, I'm nappin'."</p><p>"You need to get up anyway, lunch is in like ten minutes." Parvis says, offhandedly. "But, seriously, why did no one tell me? We could've been friends for months! All that wasted time!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	open up to me

**Author's Note:**

> **warning** : pov character has a depressive episode
> 
> parv's experiences are very much based on my experiences, & i have never been diagnosed with depression (& am v tentative about self-diagnosing for a whole list of reasons), so if i've fucked anything up, please tell me.
> 
> i am steadily deviating more & more from it, but as always the main inspiration for this is [pantsferdinand](http://pantsferdinand.tumblr.com)'s [harry potter au](http://pantsferdinandtumblr.com/tagged/hfhpau). this is set in third year. title is from resting hour by green river ordinance.
> 
>  
> 
> **obligatory rpf disclaimer: if your name is mentioned, this fic isn't for you, close this tab thanks**

"Do Strife and Parv know each other?"

Trott gives Smith a look. "There's like seventy students in our year, Smith. Everyone knows everyone."

"You know what I mean." Smith says, exasperatedly. "Are they friends? Or friendly?"

"Pretty sure Strife's only friends with Trott." Ross says, his voice slightly muffled from the quill he's holding between his teeth. "Not that that's a bad thing, though his taste is questionable."

"We should introduce him to Parv."

"Are you sure about that?" Trott asks. "Parv is..." He trails off. Parv is pretty indescribable.

"The exact opposite of Strife? My point exactly."

"What, opposites attract?"

"Parv is obnoxious and annoying but weirdly endearing, Strife is withdrawn and passive but weirdly endearing - they can be weirdly endeared by each other, it'll be great."

"Riiight."

Smith huffs. "You just wait. I'm gonna introduce them, and they're gonna become amazing friends, and you're gonna kick yourself for ever doubting my genius."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

Parvis is kind of an enigma.

He's a Slytherin, and he's loud and obnoxious and hard to ignore, the kind of person who, if he's in the room, everyone knows it. He plays guitar, which Strife only knows from overhearing him talk to Smith about it. 

And, sometimes, he doesn't come to class. Like, not that he misses the occasional lesson or afternoon or day, because of the flu or a stomach bug or some other common illness that makes the rounds every so often. More in the sense that Strife is pretty sure he didn't turn up to Transfiguration once for the entire month of October.

So, okay, maybe Strife sees where Smith is coming from, here.

Strife has never actually told anyone - or, at least, not any of his fellow students - about his anxiety. Because, y'know, anxiety makes it kind of hard to talk to people. It's a bit of a vicious circle.

But he does share a dorm with Trott. And he does spend a lot of time with Trott, and by extension Smith and Ross. And he knows sometimes, when you're around people a lot, you don't have to actually say anything for them to know things.

"Parvis?" Strife repeats, incredulously. Because sure, he might see where Smith is coming from, but that doesn't mean Smith is right.

"I think you'll be good for each other." Smith says, confidently. "I know he can be a bit grating, but trust me, he grows on you."

"Right."

Smith makes a huffing sound. "Look, you don't have to, it was just a suggestion. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to."

"No, no, it's-- I'll talk to him. Or try. I'll try to talk to him." 

"Great!" Smith grins. "Let me know how it goes, yeah?"

"Yeah." Strife says, absentmindedly, already mentally drafting conversation starters he can use in tomorrow's Ancient Runes lesson.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me Will was so cool!"

Smith blearily raises his head and blinks. "Go 'way, I'm nappin'."

"You need to get up anyway, lunch is in like ten minutes." Parvis says, offhandedly. "But, seriously, why did no one tell me? We could've been friends for months! All that wasted time!"

"Didn't want you to break him." Smith says, as he reluctantly sits up, rubbing at his eyes and stretching his back. 

"I would never!"

"Parv. You have put every single one of your friends in the hospital wing at least once."

"Only one of those was on purpose!"

Smith gives him a look. Parv sticks out his tongue petulantly.

"But you're getting on, then?" Smith asks, after a beat. "You have Ancient Runes together, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. And Transfiguration."

Smith nods, doesn't point out that he knows they have Transfiguration together, he's in their class, and grabs his wand off the bedside table and his robes off the floor. He'd slept pretty much fully clothed, not even bothering to get under the covers proper, because he wasn't about to waste precious time he could've been spending asleep.

"You should sit with him at lunch."

Parv runs a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "What if he doesn't want to sit with me, though? What if I annoy him, or make him uncomfortable, or make him hate me?"

"You should sit with him at lunch." Smith repeats, with emphasis.

"But--"

"Parv. Just sit with him. Even you can't make him hate you over the course of one meal."

"...Fine." 

Smith grins at him, pats him on the shoulder, then slips past him to go find Ross.

* * *

"Heeeey, Trotty!"

Trott is sat in the Slytherin common room, waiting for Smith to get back from Ancient Runes. A class he's pretty sure Parv is meant to be in.

Not that it'd be the first time Parv has skipped.

"Yeah?" Trott asks, watching as Parv drapes his gangly self over the back of his chair. He's wearing pyjama pants, a band t-shirt and, inexplicably, a pair of fingerless gloves. Even though they're inside, and despite whatever rumours you might hear, the Slytherin common room is actually pretty warm.

"You're buds with Will, yeah?"

Trott narrows his eyes. "I'm not helping you prank him."

Parv clutches a hand to his chest and gasps. "I would never!" He protests, completely unconvincingly. "No, no, I was wondering if you know what music he likes? Or chocolate? Or stuff like that?"

"...You mean, for presents?"

"Yeah, exactly! I tried asking him, but he's _useless_ and he won't tell me _anything_ , just kept babbling on about how I didn't have to get him anything, it was fine, blah blah blah self-sacrificing bullshit. He's almost as bad as Smith - so I figured, you buy Smith presents! Even though he's, y'know," Parv gestures a hand in the air, "all Smith-y and shit. So you must know how to be sneaky and figure out what people want without, like, actually asking."

Trott purses his lips, thinking. "There's this one brand of American chocolate he really likes, his brother sends him care packages, though I dunno how the fuck you'd get some. And... there's some book series he's reading? It's fantasy, I think, I'm sure he'll tell you about it if you ask. But, like, ask just to ask, not ask to buy him presents, y'know?"

"Subtlety, right, got it." Parv grins and pats Trott's cheek. "Thank you!"

And then he bounds off again, as suddenly as he'd appeared.

* * *

Strife goes home for Christmas.

Parv isn't surprised by this - Strife doesn't talk about his family much, but that's more because Strife just doesn't talk much full stop than because they're shitty or he doesn't get on with them or whatever. Strife's family are lovely, Parv is sure, because Strife is lovely.

Parv is surprised by how much he misses him, though.

"Smiiiiiith," he whines, flopping down into the armchair next to where Smith is playing chess with Sips, "How do you make emotions stop?"

Smith gives him a confused look. "Are you alright, mate?"

"I miss Strife." Parv says, dejectedly. "And he's not getting back for a week and a half. And I can't even owl him, because it's too bloody far. And it just aches, all the time, in my chest, and I didn't even know that was a _thing_. I don't like it. I don't like it at _all_."

"Awww, has Parv got a crush?" Sips croos.

Parv glares at him. "Fuck off."

"It's perfectly natural. Strife's a nice boy, very easy on the eyes, I can totally see why you'd like him."

"But he's not _here_ though."

Sips leans over and pets Parv's arm comfortingly. Or patronisingly. It's hard to tell.

"There must be some way you can talk to him." Smith says. He's got his thinking face on.

He's been owling Ross and Trott almost constantly, the lucky fuck, so hopefully he feels Parv's plight.

"I can't owl, I can't Floo, none of that muggle shit Ross showed us works here, I'm going to die of missing him. I am actually going to _die_."

"Don't be so melodramatic." Smith says, rolling his eyes. "I'll think of something. It's the twenty-first century, for Merlin's sake, there has to be something."

* * *

The next day, Parv wakes up and almost immediately rolls over and goes back to sleep.

He wakes up again, several hours later, because a house elf appears with food.

He doesn't know which house elf. The whip crack of them apparating away again is what jolts him awake.

He gets like this, sometimes. Well, no, he's like this all of the time - everything takes so much effort, and he doesn't know why things are harder for him than everyone else, or why he thinks things he's pretty sure no one else thinks, or why he has days where he can't even get out of bed.

But he does. That's how he is. And he hasn't found a spell or a potion that makes it stop, not entirely, though Merlin knows he's looked.

The house elf had brought soup and coffee - sneaking into the kitchens on the regular pays off, it turns out, because now the house elves all really like him and bring him food whenever he skips a meal - and he sits up, manages most of it, then goes back to sleep again.

"Parv, hey. Parv. _Parv_."

The third time he wakes up, the sun's starting to set, and Smith is standing at the edge of his bed, clutching a roll of parchment.

Parv blinks at him blearily. "Wha?"

"So, you can enchant objects." Smith says, grinning. "Like, you know the Dumbledore's Army coins? It's the Protean charm, and it links objects together so when you change one, the others change to match. Coins are a simpler version, but you can do it to notebooks, too, so when you write in yours, it appears in other people's."

"...Isn't that, like, a NEWT level spell?"

"Well, yeah. So I talked to Kirin - y'know, the Ravenclaw prefect? And they think they can do it. So now we just need to get two notebooks, and figure out how to get one of them to Strife."

Smith is grinning wide, really pleased with himself. As he should be. Parv wants to smile back, but he can't quite remember how.

"That's great, that's-- Thanks. You're the best."

"Anything for a mate." Smith sets the roll of parchment on Parv's bedside table. The bowl and mug from earlier has disappeared, because house elves are fucking effecient. "Have you eaten anything?"

"House elf brought me soup."

"Right, good. Me and Sips are gonna be in the common room, if you want. No pressure."

Parv nods, and Smith gives him one last smile before leaving the dorm, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Parv thinks about getting up - the common room's not that far, and it'll just be Smith and Sips, and they won't mind if all he does is curl up in a chair and watch them be functional humans in ways that evade him - but he doesn't want to. He just doesn't want to.

Instead, he picks up a book his cousin recommended to him - it's a Muggle fantasy, and she'd said something about how he'd love it because it's clever and witty and one of the characters reminded her of him - and settles in to read.

* * *

Christmas comes and goes - Parv gets books and sweets from pretty much everyone, except Strife, who bought him a fucking leather jacket. Like, a really nice one. As if Parv didn't miss him enough.

They can't figure out a way to get one of the charmed notebooks to Strife, so Parv has to suffer until term starts, and it's hell. It's literally hell. Parv has never got homesick, or spent any significant portion of time away from someone he was this close to, so he has no frame of reference for this, no previous experience in how to deal with it.

Mostly, he lies around and whines a lot.

But then, finally, _finally_ , it's the day before term starts. The day everyone gets back to Hogwarts.

Strife is Portkeying, so he's not coming on the train, so he's actually getting into Hogsmeade several hours before everyone else. Which is the one benefit to Strife being in America.

Parv wants to wait in Hogsmeade, because he could, easily, but Smith talks him out of it. Says all this shit about overwhelming Strife, and giving him space to say goodbye to his family, and blah blah blah respecting boundaries. Parv waits in the entrance hall instead.

He's playing Snap with Martyn to pass the time, but he's losing badly because he's staring more at the doors than at the cards. Martyn's not giving him any shit about it, though. Martyn's good like that.

And then Strife walks through the door.

He's wearing Muggle clothes, which shouldn't be surprising but throws Parv for a loop anyway. He's never seen Strife in Muggle clothes before. He's wearing a sweater, and a shirt, and skinny jeans, and he is literally the best thing Parv has ever seen.

"Strife!"

Strife's eyes widen, as Parv jumps to his feet and bounds over, grinning widely. "Oh, uh. Hello, Parvis."

"I have missed you _so much_." Parv says, bouncing up and down on his heels. "Why did I let you go without establishing some means of communication? That was a terrible idea, we're both idiots, let's never do that again."

"I, um. I missed you too?"

"Parv was bloody insufferable." Martyn calls, from where he's still sat on the floor. "Like, even more so than usual. Count yourself lucky you missed it."

Parv flips him off over his shoulder. "We made notebooks," he explains, "Smith found this charm, and it's, like, really advanced, so we asked Kirin Dave to do it, so now we have charmed notebooks! And we can talk always, even when we're too far away to owl or in a country without a Floo network or whatever!"

"Oh." Strife says. He looks pleased, but also like he's sorta unsure about it. Like he's second guessing if he's allowed to be pleased.

"C'mon, they're in my dorm." Parv tugs at Strife's sleeve, and they set off together for the Slytherin dorms. Parv prompts Strife into telling him about his Christmas, and listens happily, revelling in the fact that Strife is here and they can talk and they'll never be apart like that ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> i am [here](http://monsterau.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
